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About Houston

So, I’m cruisin’, dust flyin’, and I’m like—where’s the action? Small town vibes, nobody talks about it, but everybody knows. I heard—get this—back in ‘98, some farmer traded chickens for a night! True story, swear it! Ain’t that wild? Makes me laugh, like, “You get a chicken! She gets a buck!” Hilarious, right?

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Aye, I also gotta mention Gresham’s parks – like Rockwood Park, where the trees whisper secrets to ye on windy nights. Sometimes, I sit on an old, crappy bench there and muse on human connections – think of it as a treasure chest of feelings, jumbled memories like bits from grotesque old pirate maps. Wow, life here is like a merry-go-round, blowin’ me mind with every turn. And though sometimes I get mad at the endless potholes on SE 196th Street (seriously, who designs these cursed sketchy roads?!), the city’s quirks make it ever so delightfully imperfect.

13-year-old killed by stray bullets while asleep in Gresham apartment, police say